


Of Woe and Ruin and Letters Gone Unread

by CheatCodes



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Ambiguos Time Period, Ana is having none of this, Blind Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison, Condescending Hanzo, Detective AU, Emergency Tea Times, Grumpy Old man Jack, He’s doing his best, I didn’t mean to insult you I was trying to flirt, Multi, Murder Mystery, Pining, Sherlock McCree, Slightly British, Slow Burn, There’s a plot in here somewhere, Trying to be Jane Austen, Watson Hanzo, action adventure, assholes in love, mafia, unrequited feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:14:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22625383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheatCodes/pseuds/CheatCodes
Summary: Mccree was so terribly enthralled with mysteries. No matter if they left him in the rain, hung him high and dry- he chased them. Like how one chased a lover through the street. Just a hint of mad desperation in his infatuation. Shown in how he’d forget his hat, his own name, tailing a good case. Hanzo there to pick up the pieces left in his wake.At the word murder, Mccree sat straight up in his seat. Ready for a new plot line to follow, story to weave.It was not the first time Hanzo sat idly and entertained killing someone. At least then he’d have his undivided attention.At least then maybe Mccree would look at him the way he was looking at Ms. Amari now.A Sherlock Holmes Au full of mystery, pining, and banter, with cameos from some of the rest of the cast.
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada, Open Ambiguos Relationships
Kudos: 11





	Of Woe and Ruin and Letters Gone Unread

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This is totally something I plan on finishing, and publishing on a schedule from here on out. This chapter is a stand alone though, just to see if I have the audience for it. Testing the waters if you will. Hope y’all don’t mind my bullshit that much. Love ya!

“ I beg of you, do not,” Hanzo said, catching Mccree's arm before he could knock.  
The house at risk was quaint, with simple turn of the century brickwork. Classy, like all the others on the secluded neighborhood street. Older than dirt if its layout meant anything.  
Tall oak trees curved in along the road, blotching out the sun, the first signs of fall found in their tumbling leaves, turning amber, brown.  
The air was crisp and clean. No wind.  
Yet none of this was of any importance, all things added to Hanzo’s catalogue of observations because that was his job, to take notes of the small details so Mccree could consult him on them later. Not because they held any significance. 

What was significant? The behavior of his college, for this was a sensitive matter.  
A man had almost been killed. This was not a time to joke. 

“ I haven’t even done anything yet darling,” Mccree said, all sing-song. He let his arm fall, flashing Hanzo a crooked grin. His lips twitched.  
Hanzo felt like muttering something hateful, emphasis on yet.  
How he loved to antagonize him so.

“ No theatrics this time,” Hanzo said, refusing to acknowledge him, releasing his grip. 

“ Theatrics?” 

“ Pointless bolstering, showing off, you made a fool of us last time and it's unprofessional,” he replied. He crossed his arms. Mccree no longer reacted to his glare so he didn’t bother, but he didn’t pretend to be pleased. 

“ I’m just using what my mama gave me,” Mccree said, stepping off the doorstep. Gesturing to his head. Looking bout ready to laugh.  
So predictable, so arrogant.

Hanzo turned away and covered his mouth with the back of his hand so Mccree couldn’t see him fighting a smile. He closed his eyes. The embarrassing grin did not leave his face.  
The bastard. 

“ All your mother gave you was an uncanny ability to pick fights with people in need of our business, and a foolhardy notion that I’d stand by to watch,” he said, when he’d regained control. 

“ You wound me sugar,” Mccree replied, doing the thing where he put his thumbs in his belt loops, standing propped to the side. It lived in infamy. Notorious for making Hanzo’s eyes drift downwards, tongue in cheek. Hell, and Mccree knew it, perceptive as he was.  
Unacceptable, he scolded himself. His own lack of professionalism was unacceptable. 

“ You neglected to mention my rugged good looks.”

Hanzo snorted. 

“ Or my inescapable charms.” 

He snorted again. 

“ You laugh but if I delegated the small talk to you we’d never solve another case, the only person you can flatter is yourself.” 

This time his face remained impassive and unmoved. He made a go on gesture, acting like he was above returning the childish jab. ( When in actuality he just couldn’t think of any comeback in the moment) 

“ Aye,” Mccree shook his head, apparently taking humor in Hanzo’s lack of response,” I just reckon folks don’t mind a little affirmation.”  
Affirmation? Is that what they were calling it?

He deadpanned Mccree.  
“ Yes, but perhaps keeping the more profound deductions to yourself wouldn’t hurt.”  
Subtle. 

Mccree cocked his head, still not looking even a tad bit frustrated, a look of confusion flitting across his face. Finally he arrived at the point Hanzo was trying to make.  
“ Are you still mad about the Davisburg scandal?” He asked, with the sudden expression of understanding. 

Hanzo threw his hands up, “ Of course I’m still mad! He was a well known businessman and you exposed the affair he was having with the maid-“  
Mccree muttered something along the lines of, “ Its always the maid.” 

“ In front of a whole crowd of reputable people.”  
Reputable people- probably having affairs of their own- that certainly wouldn’t be calling them in the future.

“ They deserved to know!” 

“ We were hired for an open and shut break in case!” 

“ Her perfume was on him, it's not my fault no one can use their head nowadays.” 

As abrupt as the outburst was, it ended just as quick. Falling to silence. Defused easily since the tiff held no real heat. 

Mccree broke first, inhaling and scratching a this chin, “ Everyone likes knowing they’re in competent hands, it was only meant to act as reassure that I knew what I was doing.” 

The silence stretched on.  
Hanzo continued to look unimpressed, but eventually he worried he was going to look petty if this was the hill he died on. He sighed.  
“ Tell me at least how you came upon the conclusion that ‘reassurance’ is going to be needed for this particular household,” He said, giving in. A obvious bit of bait. 

“ Simple,” Mccree said. His face lighting up in immediate gratification, the same way it did whenever Hanzo played along with his antics.  
“ They’re the only house on the block without a newspaper, showing a distrust of the public, their drapes are drawn so they may be hiding something, considering its a cloudy day, there is no mud on the front step, no one has visited in awhile, and we are not the same as typical dinner party guests, visiting from out of town. They probably only called us here because of the dire situation, and if they are on edge, they will be looking for the slightest slip up on our part, to dismiss us and put this whole nasty affair behind them.” 

It was the same thing every time.  
“ Mr. Holmes,” He said, emphasis on the false stage name, “ Please do not insult me so, by finding me thick enough to fall for that. I will bet my family's estate you pulled half of that from out your ass. From thin air.” 

“ Haven’t been able to slide one by you yet,” Mccree shot back, with a wink. Tugging his abomination of a hat over his head, an unabashed expression hidden under the brim. 

Hanzo found himself making the face of exhausted yet fond parent at the school boy mischief masquadring in a cowl and slacks.  
Hanzo knew Mccree was a genius, maybe one day he would act like one. 

“ All I ask,” he started, “ Is that you keep some level of your.. excitement.. in check, and don’t make a scene. I’d hate to be guilty by association.” 

Mccree nodded, “ So no sugar hill?” 

Sugar hill of course being a disastrous train wreck regarding trade routes and gang violence from two years prior that remained as a inside joke between them even now.  
Tragedy plus time. 

“ No sugar hill,” he replied, “ And if it makes you feel any better any suspicion these anonymous tippers may have felt before hand has no doubt grown threefold as we’ve continued to linger and mil about outside.” 

Mccree shot him a half hearted dirty look, “ You're the one doing all the lecturing darling, what’d I hire you for anyway?” 

“ My acute observations, penmanship, connections,” he tilted his head, “ Oh yes, and my quote unquote, rugged good looks, and inescapable charms.” 

Mccree laughed, throwing up the wide expanse of his neck, a hand to keep his hat on his head. 

Hanzo stayed as ever, the neutral assistant, tagging along for his writing and work, without attachment. But he didn’t pretend he wasn't staring.  
Holding the gaze with little shame, and what almost looked like boredom. 

When Mccree knocked it shook him from his thoughts, and it took a couple seconds for his focus to return. He adjusted his coat tails and went to smooth his hair before meeting empty air. He didn’t think he would ever get used to the shorter cut.  
The price to pay for conformity, yet he didn’t need another reason to stand out in a crowd. Not that he liked it. He had to keep the scowl from twisting on his face. 

The door swung open almost as soon as Mccree lifted his hand, enough to startle lesser men. Mccree did raise a eyebrow, but it was a split second reaction, and probably because he was noting something down, not because it took him by surprise. Hanzo clasped his hands behind his back and put up a front. He was a bodyguard when interacting in cases like this. A bystander. 

Mccree outstretched a hand, voice warm. A people pleaser, if a bit disarming at times when he exposed secrets folks had thought they were concealing rather well. ( Though not well enough to those that were looking) 

“ Pleased to make your acquaintance ma’am,” he said, “ Holmes as I’m sure you already know, my partner and I got your tip?” He phrased the last part as a question. Plausibility deniability. 

“ Yes, yes of course,” the woman said, beckoning them inside withouting bothering to introduce herself. Her movements made with haste, eyes darting back forth like everyone on the block wished her harm.  
“ Come inside quick boys.” 

Mccree allowed her to guide him, Hanzo on his heels. She shut the door the second he crossed the threshold. Locked it once, twice. Mccree might have been onto something talking about paranoia. 

She took a steadying breath before turning around to face them, running her hands down his apron.  
“ Ana, Ana Amari, I’m glad you're here,” Mccree nodded, she seemed less panicked now that they were inside. 

“ Would you two like a cup of tea?’ 

———

When she had them both comfortable with a cup in hand, some level of british hospitality overruling all the other more pressing matters, she led them to the parlor. All but ordering Mccree to take a seat, without actually saying anything, fluffing the throw pillows, and pointing, as if she’d expect nothing less.  
Hanzo stayed behind him, standing dutifully by his side. Thankful that Ms. Amari didn’t suggest he sit with them since he preferred to be on his feet and he knew how stiff and rigid he would look, perched on the edge of one of her lavish armchairs. All floral fabrics, goose feather cushions. 

Once Mccree had settled ( With his feet up, he had no manners)  
She turned her eyes to him, they were not cruel, but they were not kind. They were commanding. It was hard for him not to recoil under the intensity of her gaze.  
“ Thank you for coming at once,” she said, addressing Mccree, “who is your friend?” She asked. 

“ Watson,” Mccree answered for him. Watson was traditional, put people at easy. It was just as made up as Holmes, not that Amari needed to know that.  
“ My personal assistant and protection, you know how it is.” 

“ At your service,” he said, with a small bow before falling silent once more. It was not his place to speak here. 

She made a tsking noise, but seemed more at ease, leaning back in her seat. Her grip on the armchair’s arm rest slackened. 

“ I know many manners of which I’ve carried myself today have been improper, and I hope you gentlemen can find it in yourself to forgive me- but it is with a great sense of urgency I wished you here,” she said. she leaned forward as if confiding in a friend. Mccree mirrored the motion, hands together. Starved for the action cases like these presented, the adrenaline, the twists and turns. He’d gone restless the last couple months, excamliming loudly ‘there’s not enough people dying these days’ in their shared flat.  
Like a caged animal, itching to get free, you could see something almost wild in his eyes. Hanzo felt part of his impassive, hired help face soften, he lived for this too. 

Till Ana fell back into her chair, ruining the moment.  
“ I’m a caregiver here, a nurse and housekeep. The title is unimportant,” she said with a wave of a hand, “Merely that while this is not my residence I have spent many an hour roaming the halls, it is my home. My client, or well my friend-“ she pinched the bridge of his nose, with an expression on her face similar to one coming down with a headache. “ The man I provide my service too is, a bit-“

“ I beg your pardon, but I was under the impression this was a time sensitive affair,” Hanzo interjected, Mccree shot him a look over his shoulder but it was more thankful than anything. Hanzo didn’t want to come off entitled, rude.  
At least someone appreciated his bluntness. 

“ I am getting to the point,” she said, holding a hand up, looking a bit taken aback.  
He wondered how many people in her life had, had the gall to interrupt her before. 

“ He is old, simply put. He does not pay me. I don’t do much. Help him get around, make his meals, remind him to eat. He is lonely I believe. But he used to serve in the militia. He had quite a high rank in fact, before he retired. It would make sense that he had his fair share of enemies.” 

“ Ms. please-“ Hanzo started again, probing and trying to cut to the chase. Women of her age sometimes had the habit of falling into long mandering stories. Mccree and him did not have the luxury to wait around while she waltzed around the heart of the case.  
She threw her hands up, “ Someone tried to kill him last night. There? Happy?” 

Mccree might as well have jumped to his feet.  
He was so terribly enthralled with mysteries. No matter if they left him in the rain, hung him high and dry- he chased them. Like how one chased a lover through the street. Just a hint of mad desperation in his infatuation. At the word murder, he sat straight up in his seat. Ready for a new plot line to follow, story to weave.  
It was not the first time Hanzo sat idly and entertained killing. At least then he’d have his undivided attention, do something he didn’t see coming a mile away. At least then maybe Mccree would look at him the way he was looking at Ms. Amari now. 

“ Is he here? Can you tell us of him?” Mccree asked. Bombarding her with questions.  
To her credit though, she was not fazed for long. Placing her frayed hands delicately in her lap, instead of being carried away in Mccree’s whirlwind of queries. 

“ Can we speak with him? Where were you two when it happened? Or was he alone-“  
Hanzo placed a hand on his shoulder and he lost some of his steam, the rapid fire interrogation tampering off.  
He was a tornado of a man Hanzo thought to himself. He squeezed Mccree’s shoulder once before returning the hand to behind his back.  
Mccree was a tornado and he was a rock. 

“His name is Jack,” she answered, voice low and words picked with a thin layer of caution. “ I doubt talking to him will do any good. He has gone a bit senile these days. I doubt he would remember his own name if I was not around.” 

She pursed his lips, “ He was alone, no one visits, and that means he couldn’t have seen anything.” 

“ Would you elaborate ma’am?” Mccree said. Ana smiled at him.  
The man who had his dirty boots on her table. She smiled at.  
Hanzo didn’t understand Americans. 

“ Oh,” she said, like it was an afterthought, “ He’s as blind as a bat.” 

Well that certainly made things more interesting, did it not? Hanzo caught Mccree’s eyes. What a case this was turning out to be.


End file.
